Red vs Blue: The Cosmodrome Chronicles
by Starlight's Poet
Summary: While the Guardians continue the battle against the Darkness, two opposing teams in the Crucible fight over the most undesirable (at least in their eyes) piece of land in the entire universe: a shitty old war base in the middle of the Antarctic's version of Bum-Fuck-Egypt.
1. Cosmodrome Blues

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Red vs Blue or Destiny. Both belong to RoosterTeeth and Bungie respectively. In retrospect…this is a crossover that should have been done properly.

* * *

 _Guardians._

 _The Warriors of the Light._

 _Blessed by the Traveler – a giant sphere, capable of enhancing the life of everything it surrounds – they fight back against the Darkness. The Traveler's mortal enemy._

 _In these times, a powerful Guardian rose up to defeat countless foes._

 _Crota, and his cult who attempted to resurrect him._

 _Skolas, and his House of Wolves._

 _Oryx, the Taken King._

 _The House of Devils, who attempted to utilize SIVA._

 _They were a true paragon of light…and in the near future, their valor would be tested against one who sought to claim the Traveler for itself._

 _This…is not their story._

* * *

 **A Destiny x Red vs Blue Crossover:**

" **Red vs Blue: The Cosmodrome Chronicles"**

* * *

Old Russia. Home to the Cosmodrome.

In the old days, the Cosmodrome was a hotbed of Fallen activity. It was occupied by the House of Devils – one of the many nomadic groups among the alien race of multi-armed terrorist organisms seeking to reclaim the Traveler. However, in the days known as the "Age of Triumph," the Fallen had all but been forced out. The Cosmodrome was now free to be used again by humanity.

Of course…a portion of it was to be used for another purpose.

Currently, near the outskirts of the city – specifically where the Fabled Guardian of Legend had been resurrected by their Ghost – two Guardians could be found: a Warlock and a Titan. The Warlock's robes were colored maroon red with dark leather gloves with white metal bracers, complete with dark gray pants. A holster was strapped to the right thigh, where the ammo pouch could be found. At the feet were maroon-red armor-plated boots, reaching up to the knees. The Titan wore bright orange armor, with gaunt pauldrons sitting proudly atop his shoulders and a smooth dome-shaped helmet over his head. A fur lining could be found the collar of his armor.

In their hands were simple rifles.

"…hey."

The orange Titan looked over to his Warlock companion, sitting atop a rusted car. "Yeah?"

"You ever wonder…why we're here?"

The Titan sighed. "That's one of life's greatest mysteries, isn't it?" he asked. "Why are we here? I mean, here, specifically as Guardians? Was it just some kind of cosmic coincidence that we got brought back by the Traveler? Or is it all knowing? You know, like god has some sort of plan for us? I dunno, man…but it keeps me up at night."

"…"

"…"

Silence settled between the two. Beneath his hooded helmet, the Warlock quirked an eyebrow. "What?! I mean, why are we out here, guarding an old decrepit wall in the coldest time of year in Russia?"

"Oh." The Titan blinked. "Um…"

"And what was that stuff about God and the Traveler?"

"Hm? Oh, uh…nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"…you, uh, wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

The Warlock shrugged. "But seriously, why are we here? As far as I can tell, the Cosmodrome is practically cleared out of Fallen. Not a single Devil in sight. Ran like bats out of hell when the Age of Triumph started. Not to mention the only way in or out is by transmit via ship."

"Mmhm." The Titan hummed, disinterested as he fiddled with his rifle. "Yeah?"

"And for some reason, Lord Shaxx decided to use this place as training grounds in the Crucible – this old piece of junk they call a Wall is Red Base. And the Blues' Blue Base is the Cosmodrome Citadel in the center of the whole damn area. And, so far, the only reason that we set up a Red Base here, is because they have a Blue Base over there. And the only reason they have a Blue Base over there, is because we have a Red Base here."

"But that's because we're fighting each other." The Titan pointed out. "I think that's the whole point of the Crucible. You know, just shoot one another until you're dead as fuck."

The Warlock shook his head. "But I mean, even if we were to pull out today, and if they would come take our base, they would have _two_ bases in the middle of Russia, in the coldest time of year, where all you basically do is sit on your ass and freeze to death. Whoop-dee- _fucking_ -doo."

"What's up with that, anyway?" the Titan asked, setting his rifle down momentarily. "I mean, hey, I didn't ask to get revived by my Ghost, but I still signed up. Next thing I know, that Guardian everyone doesn't shut up about kicks the Darkness' ass, and I'm stuck in the South Pole equivalent of Bum-Fuck-Egypt, fighting a bunch of Blue Guys!"

* * *

Unknown to either, two more Guardians could be found spying on them. Similar to the previous two, these Guardians were color-coded in the opposing and aforementioned color. One was another Warlock, garbed in a waist-high cobalt blue coat with the cuffs split open, revealing white bracers over black gloves. In hand was a sniper rifle. His helmet was white with cobalt blue trims – a tin antenna sticking out at the front. Next to him, a Hunter wearing a aqua-blue cape with the hood pulled over. Their attire was little more than armor and polyon-synthetic bodysuit – with the armor colored similarly to the cloak he wore. His helmet had a built-in breather while the visor somewhat resembled the visor of off-road helmets.

"What're they talking about?"

The Warlock lowered the sniper rifle, turning to the Hunter. "What?"

"I said," the Hunter repeated. "What are they talking about?"

"God _damn_! I am so sick of answering that question!"

"Hey, you have the sniper rifle!" the Hunter defended himself, holding up his hands. "I can't see shit. Don't start to bitch at me because I'm not gonna just sit up here and play with my di-"

Immediately, the Warlock held up a hand. "Okay, okay, look... they're just standing there and talking, okay?" he stressed, having become already fed up with his companion as he silently wondered why in the hell he brought him along for this recon. "That's all they're doing. That's all they _ever_ do, is just stand there and talk! That's what they were doing last week, **and** that's what they were doing when you asked me _five_ _minutes_ ago _._ So, five minutes from _now_ , when you ask me, What are they doing? My answer's gonna be, "They're _still_ just _talking_ , and they're _still_ just standing _there_!"

A thick silence fell upon the two blue-colored Guardians. For a moment, the Warlock hoped he would shut up.

"…what're they talking about?" the Hunter asked quietly.

The Warlock swore. "You know what? I _fucking_ hate you."

* * *

"…talk about a waste of resources." The orange Titan huffed. "We should be out there finding more intelligent forms of life. Cabal, Taken, Vex for Traveler's sake! You know, fight them."

"Yeah, no shit." The Warlock nodded in agreement. "That's why they should put us in charge."

" _ **LADIES!**_ " a gruff Southern voice boomed near the wall of the decrepit barrier that separated the outskirts from the open field of the Cosmodrome's outer area. They turned to find another Titan – this one far more heavily armored than the orange one – standing nearby. It appeared to be the same armor as that of the Iron Lord Saladin, minus the cape and colored predominantly (read: completely) in red with a shotgun in hand. " _ **FRONT AND CENTER! ON THE DOUBLE!**_ "

The orange Titan silently swore under his breath, realizing that break time was over while his Warlock companion was much more attentive and full of enthusiasm. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

 _ **Grimoire Entry: The Cosmodrome Chronicles – Part I**_

 _ **After the House of Devils – following the collapse of their loss of control over SIVA, due to the Guardian and Shiro's efforts in destroying Aksis – vacancy, we were able to retake control of the Cosmodrome in earnest. Though many great foes have been defeated, we still yet remain at war with the Vex and the Cabal. We require more footholds like these.**_

 _ **Lord Shaxx, along with another Guardian – the head of one of the first Factions to ever grace the Last City – proposed an idea. As usual, he suggested making the Cosmodrome apart of the Crucible, though rather than make it a battleground as part of the usual festivities with Guardians trying to defeat one another with bullets, lightning, fire, void and explosions, he suggested making it into training grounds.**_

 _ **According to the Faction Leader – a Warlock Awoken, highly regarded by Ikora – it would serve as but one of many areas in which Guardians would learn how to hold certain strategic points during sieges and times of war.**_

 _ **I admit, I was hesitant at first. That Warlock has always unnerved me somehow. Especially after what happened to Fireteam Alpha. That said, I found no flaws in his proposal. With the consensus of Cayde and Ikora, I allowed Shaxx and the Warlock's idea to pass.**_

 _ **Officially, this occupation by the "Reds" and "Blues" was apart of the Crucible. They would compete in "Capture the Flag" – one of the more popular Crucible games. A way of honing their skills.**_

 _ **Suffice to say, however, I'm baffled by the choosing of the teams.**_

 _ **Lavernius Tucker – a Hunter far too much like Cayde for my liking. Worse, he has a bad habit of flirting with the Female Guardians.**_

 _ **Michael J. Caboose – a Titan, though one that confuses me. He is far too childlike to be among my Vanguard.**_

 _ **Leonard L. Church – a Warlock recommended personally by the Faction Leader. Admittedly, I do not know much about this Guardian, though his records are fairly average.**_

 _ **Dexter Grif – as ashamed as I am to say it, he Is a Titan…though he is far too lax and lazy. He apparently pretended to be dead while his Fireteam engaged a Vex Warmind in an attempt to prevent the Vex from reaching the Ishtar Collective.**_

 _ **Dick Simmons – a Warlock as brilliant as Ikora, if perhaps a bit too ambitious. To my understanding, he is very intelligent, though it appears he does not do well around female guardians.**_

 _ **Sarge – a Titan of…unusual eccentric behavior. I've heard Cayde mention that he is an "old war dog." I don't understand what that means, but he is very by the book. A bit too much, if you ask me.**_

 _ **Why on Earth would the Faction Leader and Lord Shaxx choose these Guardians to protect the Cosmodrome?**_

 _ **-Commander Zavala, of the Titan Vanguard**_


	2. Red Day Holiday

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Red vs Blue or Destiny. Both belong to RoosterTeeth and Bungie respectively. In retrospect…this is a crossover that should have been done properly.

* * *

 _Guardians._

 _The Warriors of the Light._

 _Blessed by the Traveler – a giant sphere, capable of enhancing the life of everything it surrounds – they fight back against the Darkness. The Traveler's mortal enemy._

 _In these times, a powerful Guardian rose up to defeat countless foes._

 _Crota, and his cult who attempted to resurrect him._

 _Skolas, and his House of Wolves._

 _Oryx, the Taken King._

 _The House of Devils, who attempted to utilize SIVA._

 _They were a true paragon of light…and in the near future, their valor would be tested against one who sought to claim the Traveler for itself._

 _This…is not their story._

* * *

 **A Destiny x Red vs Blue Crossover:**

" **Red vs Blue: The Cosmodrome Chronicles"**

* * *

Much to their reluctance, Simmons and Grif stood before Sarge, who had stowed away his Shotgun on his back and had his arms folded in front of him, tapping his foot impatiently. "Hurry up, ladies!" he yelled as they arrived shortly. It was not that long of a run. "This ain't no Ice Cream social!"

"Ice Cream social?" Simmons asked, looking at Grif.

"Stop the pillow talk, you two." Sarge deadpanned. He then cleared his throat, beginning the reason behind him calling them here. "Anyone want to guess why I gathered you here today?"

Grif raised his hand. "Is it because we finally kicked the shit out of the Darkness and every other alien trying to kill us and we're being sent back home?"

"That's exactly it, Private." Sarge drawled sarcastically as he withdrew his shotgun, giving it a threatening pump. "War's over. We won. Turns out you're the big hero! The Last City's going to throw a huge parade in your honor." Near the end, the sarcasm turned out murderous. Beneath his helmet, his face burned red and veins bulged. "I get to drive the float, and Simmons here _is in charge of confetti_!"

Grif, having been used to this treatment for months by now, rolled his eyes uncaringly. Not that Sarge would notice. "I'm no stranger to sarcasm, sir."

" **Goddammit** _ **,**_ Private!" the old war dog snarled. "Shut yer mouth, or else I'll have Simmons here slit your throat when you're asleep!"

Simmons chuckled. "I'd do it too."

"I know you would, Simmons! Good man!" Sarge then cleared his throat again, calming himself down. "Couple of things today, ladies. Command has seen fit to increase our ranks here at Cosmodrome Outpost Number One!"

Grif immediately groaned, realizing the implications. Welp, there goes his precious peace and quiet…or what could pass as peace and quiet with guys like Sarge and Simmons around. "Crap. We're getting a rookie, aren't we?"

"That's right, dead man! Our new recruit will be here within the week, but today we received the first part of our shipment from Command." The two Guardians shared a look with one another, confused by what Sarge meant. Had they received something else other than a rookie? Sarge looked over his shoulder, calling out. "Lopez! Bring up the vehicle!"

To their surprise, the familiar Combat Frame – a machine composed entirely of scrap heap and bolts and wires and steel pipes and plates with deposable thumbs – colored dark brown with a golden glowing eye in the center of its head. It came in, riding atop a vehicle that hummed softly. It was sleek, colored white with dark gray edgings. At the hood was the mark of the Vanguard – two blue half-completed triangles over a orange one. At the very back were twin thrusters, releasing a soft blue light from the exhaust. It soon powered down as the brown Frame hopped off, stepping back.

Simmons and Grif immediately eyed it, thinking of all the trouble they could get themselves into with such a beautiful piece of equipment. Well, more Grif than Simmons, but you get the idea. "Shotgun!"

"Shotgun!" Grif shouted, only to scowl when he realized he had been beaten to it. " _Fuck!_ "

Sarge chuckled proudly as he showed off what the two assumed was the latest shipment he spoke of earlier. "May I introduce our new light reconnaissance vehicle! It has three-inch armor plating…MAG buffer suspension…AND!" He paused for dramatic effect. "A built-in seat warmer! Gentleman, this is the latest reconnaissance vehicle, personally customized and outfitted by Amanda Holiday – the M12 LRV!" He gave another chuckle, putting his hands on his hips. "I like to call it the Sparrow."

Simmons cocked his head. "Why Sparrow, sir?"

"Because LRV is too hard to say in conversation, son."

Grif shook his head. "No, but why Sparrow?" he asked. "I mean, it doesn't really look like a bird."

There was a brief pause for a moment. Slowly, Sarge turned to Grif, holding his shotgun in a threatening manner once again. "…say that again?"

"I think it looks more like a puma."

" _What in Sam Hill is a puma?"_

Simmons crossed his arms. "Wasn't there a Shoe Company called Puma back before the Collapse?"

"No, like a _puma_!" Grif stressed. "It's like a big cat! A lion!"

Sarge stared at Grif, squinting his eyes. Again, not that one could tell given his helmet was on. "You're making that up."

Grif scowled. Okay, seriously? He wasn't sure what he did to piss off Sarge, but this was just ridiculous. "I'm telling you! It's a real animal!"

"Simmons, I want you to poison Grif's next meal!"

"Consider it done, sir!"

"You are such a kiss-ass." Grif scoffed.

Simmons turned back to Grif, smirking…again, not that anyone could tell because of the helmet. "At least I'm not the one dying because someone's a lazy fatass, cockbite!"

"Look." Sarge kicked the tip of the Sparrow. "See this sharp edge at the end here? It looks like a beak. Now, what animal has a beak?"

Grif answered plainly. "A penguin."

" _Didn't I tell you to stop making up animals?!_ "

* * *

"Dude, is that a freaking _bike_?!"

Church rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. "I dunno, you ask me. Is it a bike?" he shot back rhetorically, once again questioning why he brought Tucker with him on this recon. "To me, it looks like a big cat."

"That is not a puma, Church." Tucker whispered. "That is a badass, fucking bike." Were he not wearing a helmet, the Warlock would have seen him pouting. "This blows. How come the Reds get a bike while we get freaking Tank?"

"Are you seriously bitching about that? We have a tank, Tucker. A _tank_." Church stressed. He was starting to question his aqua companion's thought process. How in the hell could he be complaining about this? "A Fallen Walker, mind you, that has been hotwired."

"And there's our problem!" Tucker pointed out. "Hotwired by _Caboose_! You know, the Titan with no brain?"

…okay, fair point. Church was willing to admit, that was a valid concern. Of the many things Caboose was known for, a brain was not one of them. To this day, he was still wondering how in the hell he could have been brought back by the Traveler, or what in the holy hell that big ball of rotting scrap iron was thinking.

"And besides, you can't pick up chicks in a tank!"

…what?

"A-are you being serious?" Church asked, taken aback. "You're not bitching about the fact that our Tank is hotwired by Caboose…but your bitching that you can't pick up GIRLS?!"

"YES!"

"WHAT GIRLS ARE THERE?!" Church hissed, making sure not to raise his voice to where the Reds would discover them. "WE'RE IN THE COSMODROME! RUSSIA! ASS END OF NOWHERE! HELL, WE MAY AS WELL BE STUCK IN A BOX CANYON IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE!"

 _Dear God in Heaven, what did I do to deserve this?_ The Warlock silently thought, greatly questioning what he could have possibly done to deserve this punishment. _Why, oh why, did Commander Ikora lump me with these idiots?! Scratch that, what did she put me with idiots like Tucker and Caboose?!_

* * *

Grif sighed in slight dismay as the long lecture and futile attempt to convince his commanding officer that a puma was real. He should have known it was useless from the start, given that the old war dog was pretty much dead set on making his life miserable since his first day here at Cosmodrome Outpost Number One.

"So then." Sarge spoke with a smug tone of voice while at the same time glaring daggers at Grif, practically BEGGING him to try and say something that would warrant a shotgun to the face. "Unless _anyone_ -" He could practically feel the threatening glare through the helmet with how intensely the old man must be looking at him under that stuffy dome of his. "-wants to name any more mythical creatures as a name for our new vehicle, we're going to stick with the Sparrow. How 'bout it, Grif?"

"No, sir." Grif muttered distastefully. "No more suggestions."

"You sure? How 'bout Bigfoot?"

"Its okay."

"Unicorn?"

Wow, he was REALLY trying to get him to say something stupid, wasn't he? Remind him again, why in the holy hell did Zavala put him under this jarhead?

"No. Really. I'm cool."

"Sasquatch?"

"Leprechaun?" Simmons offered.

Grif immediately growled at him, kicking him in the shin. "Shut it. He doesn't need any help!"

"Phoenix?" Sarge continued on, much to the orange Titan's dismay, now wishing his Ghost had not brought him back if this was what waited for him. "Hey, Simmons. What's the name of that Mexican Lizard? One that eats all the goats?"

"That would be the Chupacabra, sir!"

"Hey, Grif! Chupathingy, how 'bout that? It's got a nice ring to it!"

* * *

 _ **Grimoire Entry: Few Screws Loose**_

 _ **My first few months at the Cosmodrome were pretty much easy…at least until Captain Flowers turned up dead.**_

 _ **Me and Tucker found him dead just outside the base – we weren't sure how he died, but it was permanent. His Ghost was smashed all to hell against a jagged rock nearby. Probably on purpose too. Weird part was, we didn't find anything wrong with the Captain.**_

 _ **Okay, can't say that. Cap'n was a bit too, well, forward. He said we were family. You know, the sickly sweet kind of shit you expect to here from the New Monarchy Faction back at the City.**_

 _ **Anyway, after the Captain died, me and Tucker did the best we could. We spied on the Reds, kept to the normal routine…and I had to deal with his whining about not getting a sniper rifle. Shame Captain Flowers died before he could make the order. Would have liked some goddamn piece and quiet.**_

 _ **Then…HE came.**_

 _ **Apparently, Captain Flowers must have called in for reinforcements for some reason. One day, we got a rookie. A Titan named Caboose. Didn't think much of him, at first. Thought he was like any other lughead – punch first, ask questions never. A few days later, I found out that he was…well, dumb.**_

 _ **WAY dumb.**_

 _ **Apparently, he didn't know how to fire his gun, so me and Tucker had to shoot him. That day was also the first day of what would be a daily occurrence of team killing at our Base. Then we found out he didn't know how to properly fire off a grenade. Tucker showed him how.**_

 _ **Assholes ended up tossing their grenades down to toilets as part of the demonstration, and as a result, shit was leaking out of the walls!**_

 _ **First of all, how the hell is the plumming even working? Place hasn't been maintained in YEARS! Secondly, why in the fuck would you toss grenades DOWN THE FREAKING TOILET?!**_

 _ **Then…we found out Caboose was good was vehicles. One day, we found a Fallen Walker. Was in pretty good shape, but it died because it was too old to function right. We thought it was pretty much useless junk and intended to sell it on eBay to get some cash.**_

 _ **Sometime during the night, I guess, Caboose decided to mess with it. Somehow, the giant idiot got the damn thing working! Rebooted the Fallen AI system and somehow got it to work for us – which is actually pretty damn shocking, since typically the AI system controlling the Walker is meant to kill any organisms recorded as "hostile" in the Fallen's database. Even made it so that it could be piloted!**_

 _ **We decided we would let him try it out.**_

 _ **Let me tell you something…you ever been run over by a Fallen Walker? As in, stepped on? Crushed under its legs?**_

 _ **Let me tell you.**_

 _ **NOT. FUN.**_

 _ **-Private Leonard L. Church, of the Blue Team at Cosmodrome Outpost Alpha.**_


	3. It's not pink! It's lightish-red!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Red vs Blue or Destiny. Both belong to RoosterTeeth and Bungie respectively. In retrospect…this is a crossover that should have been done properly.

* * *

 _Guardians._

 _The Warriors of the Light._

 _Blessed by the Traveler – a giant sphere, capable of enhancing the life of everything it surrounds – they fight back against the Darkness. The Traveler's mortal enemy._

 _In these times, a powerful Guardian rose up to defeat countless foes._

 _Crota, and his cult who attempted to resurrect him._

 _Skolas, and his House of Wolves._

 _Oryx, the Taken King._

 _The House of Devils, who attempted to utilize SIVA._

 _They were a true paragon of light…and in the near future, their valor would be tested against one who sought to claim the Traveler for itself._

 _This…is not their story._

* * *

 **A Destiny x Red vs Blue Crossover:**

" **Red vs Blue: The Cosmodrome Chronicles"**

* * *

A few days later after the Blues' recon mission, Simmons and Grif were found inside the decrepit wall that was Red Base. The interior was not much better than the rest of the Cosmodrome – falling apart to shit like everything else. Above, the metal frames creaked and moaned while threatening to fall any second. The same could be said about the catwalks leading to the corridors that led to the outside area: the only unowned space between the two groups and also the battleground of their petty "war."

To one may find surprising, the two Guardians were without their helmet, exposing their faces. Grif had somewhat dark skin with a square-shaped bush of facial hair at the chin. His cheeks were a bit chubby, while his hair was dark brown – a mess that was tied back in a small ponytail. Simmons had a fairly light complexion with dark blonde hair and light green eyes, though the sides of his hair were dark brown, perhaps implying the blonde portion of the hair was dyed.

"Hey." Simmons said hotly. "That isn't exactly what happened!"

"Yes it is." Grif rolled his eyes. "You said, "But I'm not heading for the Reef!" Next thing I know, you're in a escape pod, heading for-"

"Excuse me? Sirs?"

The two blinked. "Sirs?" Grif repeated, turning to find a Guardian standing behind them.

It was a Hunter, as one could recognize by the hooded cloak he wore. He had a surprisingly adronygous look, making it hard to determine if he was male or female. He was most certainly male, going by physique and voice. His hair was light blonde, wavy with the bangs in slight curls and bright red eyes. His armor was mostly a synthetic-fiber coupled with small plates of armor. Not surprising, given the nature of Hunters. The bodysuit was pale white in color while the armor plating was standard red. His cape, on the other hand, was…

Pink.

Vibrant, hot flamingo pink.

 _Why?_ The two Guardians thought with a shudder. _Why would you wear pink?_

"I was told to report to the officer in charge here at Red Base?" the Hunter asked.

Grif groaned, realizing that the Guardian in front of him was the rookie Sarge meant. "Crap…"

"Well, we're not technically the commanding officer, since Sarge is back at the Last City, but whatever." Simmons shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "I'm Private First Class Dick Simmons. Just stick with Simmons. The orange fatass over here is Grif."

The Hunter smiled widely. "Nice to meet you!" he said with a cheery, infectious tone. "Private Franklin Delano Donut, reporting for active duty!"

"Donut?" Grif snickered while Simmons repressed a chuckle. Was that _actually_ his name? "Your first name is _Donut_?"

"Is there a…problem?"

"N-no. Nothing!" Grif wave a hand, still laughing. "S-so, rookie. What's your story? Let me guess – Lord Shaxx drafted you, didn't he?"

"Nope! Signed up myself!" Donut answered, still smiling. "Commander Cayde-6 taught me the ropes, but after that, he recommended I join Lord Shaxx's new Crucible idea!"

"Gee…" Simmons remarked wryly, eyeing the pink cloak he wore. "Can't imagine why." He then paused briefly. "Wait, you were taught by Cayde? As in, Cayde-6?"

"That's what I just said."

"The dark blue Exo in the Hall of Guardians?"

"Yep. That's the one!"

"The one that likes to gripe about not being back out on the field?"

"Yessir!" Donut nodded before he pouted, folding his arms. "A real shame, too…I really wanted to run by some ideas for Hunter cloaks too! I mean, since the Age of Triumph started, we've been trying out ways to develop our own pieces of armor instead of just finding them in Engrams, right? Well, I tried running by some of my ideas to him. You know, like Chantilly Laces!"

A disturbing silence fell upon the two. As Donut droned on, the two's faces morphed into visible disturb. It had taken those last five words alone to know WHY Cayde had all but shoved him off here. They both shuddered, realizing the implications of what it meant having Donut here. Silently, they cursed the Exo and swore unholy vengeance against him for this treachery.

Of course, back at the Tower, Cayde-6 was chuckling, wondering if the Red Team at the Cosmodrome had encountered his most…eccentric Hunter yet.

"But anyway, this is going to be awesome!" the man giggled in delight. "We can stay up all night, talk about preferences and positions and-"

"Yeah, that's real nice and all, rookie, but first things first." Grif held up his hands. While Donut had been in the middle of his droning, he had come up with a way of giving him and Simmons some peace and quiet until Sarge returned. "You see, it's like a sort of…initiation. For new recruits."

Simmons, quickly catching on, nodded. "Yeah! Recently, we got a new vehicle, but we're running low on supplies. The initiation is simple – you just need to get supplies at the store…without getting caught by the Blues on the other side of the Cosmodrome."

"Oh, I get it!" Donut said, eyes glittering with excitement. "So, what do you guys need me to get?"

"Elbow grease and headlight fluid." Grif replied. "Its hard work, doing maintenance on the Sparrow."

The maroon Warlock snickered. "Don't you mean _puma_?" he said, earning a jab in the ribs. "Ow."

"Okie-dokie, then." Donut nodded. "And, if I get this stuff, I'm officially recognized as a Red?"

"Pretty much, yeah. That simple."

"Sweet!"

With that, Donut quickly set off. He pulled his hood over his head while his pulse rifle formed in his heads. Once he was out of earshot, the two Guardians looked at one another with smirks. "How long do you think it'll be before he realizes there's no store?"

"I'd say…" Grif shrugged. "At least a week. Still, _what the actual hell_? Why is he wearing a pink cloak?!"

Somewhere in the background, an effeminate voice yelled, "It's not pink! It's _lightish-red_!"

* * *

"…okay, you know what?" Tucker said as he, Church and Caboose looked at their Tank – the repaired and modified Fallen Walker – with looks of awe. "I take back what I said a few days ago. You can **totally** pick up chicks in a tank."

Like the Reds, they were currently in their own base. More specifically, an old warehouse where maintenance on the Walker was being done. Also like the Reds, their helmets were gone to reveal their faces.

Tucker, surprisingly, was an Awoken – evident by his cold blue skin and glowing orange eyes: transparent white veins flowing through his cheek and down the side of his neck. His hair was dark brown, done in dreadlocks and tied back into a ponytail with a small scar on the bridge of his nose. Church was human, with short dark black hair and a goatee spread across his lower face, particularly sporting a salt-and-pepper like beard and cobalt blue eyes. Caboose, meanwhile, had a young looking face – perhaps the youngest of the males. His sunkissed gold hair was messy and shaggy as if it had never had a haircut in his life with large blue eyes. His Titan armor was surprisingly slim, colored dark blue.

"Oh, listen to you." Church rolled his eyes, but grinned nonetheless. It had taken quite a bit of work to get this thing refurbished for the field – as well as finding the right parts for it. "What're you gonna do with chicks with this thing?"

"Church, Church, Church." Tucker clucked his tongue, wagging a finger. "Women are like Voltron! The more you hook up, the better it gets."

"Sheila!" Caboose called, his voice matching his youthful appearance. "How do you feel? Do you still feel itchy in weird places?"

[No. The parts you found were all top grade!] an electronic, female voice belonging to that of the AI system aboard the Fallen Walker answered. [All functions are within required parameters. I am ready to take to the field.]

"Man, can't wait to take this baby out for a test drive." Tucker drooled. "Whoo!"

Church shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, back to what you were saying earlier…you had a thing for the Queen? As in, Mara Sov? The Ice Bitch?"

"What can I say? She was _smokin'_. Lot of guys back home thought so, too. Hell, ask anyone back in the Last City, and they'll tell you they'd tap the Queen's ass."

"Eh, I dunno…if you ask me, ain't worth it. I hear her brother's a bigger bitch than she is."

"I wouldn't say bitch, per say…more like he's got a ten foot pole rammed up his ass. And it ain't coming out anytime soon." Tucker answered.

Of course, what he didn't say was that he once tried to flirt with Mara Sov before that whole Taken King fiasco started and it ended with her asshole of a brother cockblocking him and busting six of his ribs, along with a bullet to the nuts and chest. As if insult to injury, bastard wouldn't let him go back to the Reef and threatened to gun him down! What an asshole!

"How 'bout you, Church? You got a special lady friend?"

Church chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, to tell you the truth, I uh…I've got a girl back home." He answered. The subject was a bit too uncomfortable for his taste. While he tolerated Tucker somewhat, he wasn't about to share the details.

"Really?" Tucker leaned in, curious. "Girlfriend or wife?"

"Nah, girlfriend. We were going to get married, but…shit happened, you know?"

"You gonna marry her when Lord Shaxx decides we're done with this crap and he hands us our Legendary Marks?"

Caboose chuckled. "Oh, I'm not getting married anytime soon!" he quipped. "My dad always said…why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

This, inadvertently, turned out to be a poor case of miscommunication and a poor choice of words. Slowly, Church turned to him, eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare as he slowly inched for the rifle on his back. "…rookie." He said in a low voice. "Did you just call my girlfriend a _cow_?"

"No." Tucker said, frowning heavily as he found himself disturbed with the rookie's own words. "I think he just called her a slut!"

This, of course, only served to piss off Church even further. While he wouldn't exactly say things were alright between him and his girlfriend, he was most certainly not happy when someone was dissing her. Less so when someone outright called her jailbait. "Tell you what," he hissed. "I could sit out here and listen to you insult my girlfriend all day long, but as it turns out, I got a lot more important job for you to do."

"Really?" Caboose asked, excited and intrigued by the prospect of having a new important job to do. "What kind of job?"

"You see…there's this general guy."

Tucker nodded. "Yeah, the general."

"And he likes to come by and make random inspections of bases. So what I'm gonna have you do, is I'm gonna have you go in the base, and stand right next to the flag at attention, just in case he decides to come by."

Caboose tilted his head. "When is he coming by?"

"Dunno. Could be today. Could be tomorrow. Maybe even a week for now."

His face fell a bit. "…you want me to stand attention…for a week?"

Church gave him the stink-eye, fully intending on making sure the little bastard suffered. "You know, you don't sound very grateful. This is the most important job at the whole base. You're gonna be right there with the flag."

"What's so special about the flag?"

"Oh, come on, don't they teach you guys anything in training?"

Caboose paused, cocking his head before he smiled. "Nope. Didn't learn anything about a flag."

"Well, you're about to. Its important because its…the flag is…" Church cursed when he found himself unable to find a viable excuse, instead turning to Tucker, though how helpful he was gonna be was questionable. "Tucker, tell him how important the damn thing is!"

Tucker blinked, pointing at finger at himself. Church nodded, and he sighed, shaking his head. "Well... it's... it's complicated. Uh... It's blue, we're blue."

Yep, little to no help at all. "It's just important, okay?" Church insisted. "Trust us. So when the General comes by, the first thing he's gonna want to do is inspect the flag. S-so just get back to base, far away from _us_ , and wait for him to show up!"

"And how do I know when I see him?"

Tucker gave him a blank look. "There's only three of us here!" he said, gesturing to their blue-themed uniforms. "He's gonna be the guy who doesn't look like he'd be one of us privates. Understand now?"

"Oh…okay!" Caboose nodded. He then walked away, much to Church's relief. Any longer, and he was going to- "By the way, Church! Um…sorry about calling your girlfriend a slut!"

He whipped around, grabbing his sniper rifle and firing a round that completely missed – whizzing right past his head and causing his blonde locks to flutter. "ROOKIE!" he roared. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP AND GET BACK TO BASE! YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!"

Unknown to any of the Blues, however, a familiar pink-garbed Hunter arrived at the warehouse, ducking under a half-broken shudder before he found the blue-themed Guardians.

"Finally found it." He remarked before noticing the Fallen Walker, eyes widening in excitement. "Ooh, cool~! They even sell broken Walkers too!"

* * *

 _ **Grimoire Entry: The Apprentice and the Master**_

 _ **Cayde-6: So, Donut (god it is so freaking weird calling someone that), how's it feel to be a Gunslinger?**_

 _ **Donut: Not bad! I kind of like the whole glowing thing! And the gun's pretty nice too! Goes with my armor!**_

 _ **Cayde-6: …right. Well, anyway-**_

 _ **Donut: Say, Commander Cayde?**_

 _ **Cayde-6: Donut, we've been over this.**_

 _ **Donut: Oh, right! Captain Cayde, sir!**_

 _ **Cayde-6: That's better! Continue.**_

 _ **Donut: Well, I've been wondering…we've been trying to make our own armor, isn't that right?**_

 _ **Cayde-6: Yep. You see the synthetic-fiber bodysuits? Our latest attempt, courtesy of the Cryptarchs and our friendly House of Judgement Fallen back in the Reef. Wouldn't have been possible without my Favorite Guardian!**_

 _ **Donut: Well, I've been thinking…do you think we can introduce color-coding?**_

 _ **Cayde-6: …what?**_

 _ **Donut: Well, no offense sir, but your cloak is horrendous!**_

 _ **Cayde-6: E-excuse me?**_

 _ **Donut: Well, I just don't think it goes well with your shell! You should try going for something that brings out the color in your optics! Have you tried maybe a beige? Ooh, maybe something lightish red?**_

 _ **Cayde-6: What, as in pink?!**_

 _ **Donut: No, I mean**_ **lightish-red** _ **!**_

 _ **Cayde-6: …you know, something, Donut? I just came up with a great idea. You know Shaxx, right? One-horned mean old sonuvabitch who runs the Crucible? Well, you see, he has this new thing going on. It's like this – you know the game, "Capture the Flag" right?**_

 _ **Donut: Best game in the Crucible!**_

 _ **Cayde-6: Right. Well, you see…he's holding a, how shall we say…bootcamp? There are two teams: Red Team and Blue Team. They're settled in the Cosmodrome. It's a project between the Freelancer Faction Leader and Lord Shaxx – a way to train Guardians in holding down vital key footholds. The Cosmodrome is, naturally, one of the first footholds we reclaimed since my Favorite Guardian kicked out the House of Devils and Kings.**_

 _ **Donut: Okay, and…?**_

 _ **Cayde-6: Well, I was thinking that, maybe, well…Red Team could perhaps use your expertise? Not just as a Hunter, trained by yourself truly, but also as a…honorable fashionista. They've got two Titans and a Warlock. And what do I always say about Teams and their members, Donut?**_

 _ **Donut: That you need at least one good Hunter to make sure they don't screw it up!**_

 _ **Cayde-6: Exactly. So, consider this your latest assignment.**_

 _ **Donut: Ooh, neat! I'll go pack my bags! I wonder what they're like? I can hardly wait! I wonder what kind of products they have at the Cosmodrome…**_

 _ **(static)**_

 _ **Cayde-6: …Ikora. So help me, if you say one word, I will shoot a Void arrow. Right here. Right now.**_

 _ **-A recording of Hunter Vanguard Commander Cayde-6 and Guardian Franklin D. Donut, recorded by Titan Vanguard Commander Zavala's Ghost**_


End file.
